


Through Their Eyes

by bookaddled



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Archie solves another case, Babysitter Sherlock, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, M/M, New Friendship, Other character's POV, Sherlock and Archie's relationship as told by others, Sherlock loves pirates, The Princess Bride References, beginning Mollstrade, case fic (kind of), follows HLV, hinted Pining!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-03 23:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1759399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookaddled/pseuds/bookaddled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“That was so cool, Mr. Holmes! When can we do that again?”</em>
  <br/>
  <em>“Hopefully soon. And you can call me Sherlock, Archie.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A series of one-shots following the progression of Archie and Sherlock's friendship and their adventures together, told through various characters' POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Study in Honey

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired by [this post](http://astudyinrose.tumblr.com/post/85592605831/imagine-sherlock-lets-archie-tag-along-on-some-of-the) on Tumblr and is dedicated to the lovely [Amanda](http://astudyinrose.tumblr.com) who encouraged this to happen.

Lestrade looked over at the curly heads bent excitedly over the victim-- one head a smaller, lighter version of the other-- and shook his head. Running has hand over his eyes, he contemplated again how he had ever let Sherlock talk him into allowing a seven year old boy into a crime scene. But this was the third body in as many days; all the victims lived on the same block and all apparently dropped dead for no reason. Molly was running tox screens, but nothing odd had shown up yet. He was stumped with this case, and as much as he hated to admit it, he needed Sherlock Holmes’ crime scene magic. Today, however, that meant that he came with the ring bearer from John’s wedding in tow.

Lestrade had been flabbergasted when Sherlock had arrived at the house followed by a wide-eyed Archie. Sherlock had explained at Lestrade’s questioning look that Archie’s mom had been desperate for a last minute sitter, since the Watson’s, his usual sitters, were still on their honeymoon. She had called Sherlock since he and Archie had gotten on so well at the wedding, and Sherlock had grudgingly agreed.

“He’s tolerable and not a complete imbecile. He did solve the case at the wedding,” Sherlock explained, glancing fondly down at Archie. A dark look then entered his eyes.

“Plus, I was bored,” Sherlock muttered.

Lestrade’s heart had squeezed at that confession. Sherlock had been trying to keep a brave face on, throwing himself into as many cases as he could to keep himself busy. But Lestrade had helped Sherlock write his best man’s speech. He had noticed that Sherlock had left the reception soon after the first dance, and he had read Sherlock’s entry and the comments on John’s blog. He observed now how thin and ragged Sherlock looked, like he hadn’t really been eating or sleeping much in the last couple weeks. Lestrade, though he might not be able to see half the things that Sherlock could see, could easily deduce that his longtime friend was suffering from a broken heart.

For the last week, he had worried about Sherlock. He was starting to show some of the danger signs, and the last thing he needed was for Sherlock to slip back into old habits. It had taken him and Mycroft forever to get him clean the last time-- the time before he had met John Watson. Sherlock obviously needed a companion who shared his enthusiasm for cases and adventure to keep him straight. It was for this reason alone that Lestrade had finally relented and allowed Sherlock to bring Archie into the house.

“But, for God’s sake, keep him away from the victim! It’s already bad enough he’s at a crime scene. I don’t want to get a call from his mother yelling at me because her son is having nightmares!”

Of course, Sherlock did not listen. After looking around the kitchen and spending quite some time at the window looking into the back garden, all the while pointing out things to Archie, he had walked over to the victim, Archie following avidly behind. Thankfully, the victim was fully dressed and with no outward signs of cause of death. In fact, it looked just like she was sleeping on the ground.

“Are you seriously allowing a child at a crime scene?” Donovan had demanded. “Shouldn’t we be rescuing the child from the freak? We certainly don’t want another one like him...”

“Oi, shut it!” was all that he had said, sending her outside to make sure the house stayed secure.

Lestrade now stood a little ways away watching the two and marvelling at how similar they both were. Archie was intensely curious and seemed awkward and unsure of himself, much as he imagined a younger Sherlock must have been like.

He strolled over to the body in order to get a report from Sherlock. As he got closer, he was able to overhear the two murmuring to each other.

“Notice how pale her hands are. And look there, Archie.”

Sherlock was pointing to the victim’s collarbone, where a slight rash could just be seen. Archie nodded his head, wide eyes taking in everything that Sherlock pointed out, absorbing everything that Sherlock was telling him.

“Wow, cool.”

Lestrade covered his mouth in order to hide his smile. Sherlock Holmes was teaching. He hadn’t even done this with John with the pink lady. He had just rattled off deductions, trying to impress his new friend.

 _I should have known then. I should have seen it_.

Shaking his head, he cleared his throat, breaking the spell of the lesson. He tried his hardest not to laugh as curls bounced when their heads snapped up at the same time, both sets of eyes glaring at him for interrupting as they both stood up.  

“So, what have we got? Have you figure it out?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Please, George. This case was so tediously easy. Why did you even call me in on this?”

Lestrade closed his eyes, taking a deep breathe and willing himself not to take Sherlock’s quips personally. It would not do to yell in from of Archie.

“Fine, Mr. Know-It-All. How was she murdered, then?”

“She wasn’t murdered,” Sherlock scoffed. “This was an accidental death. All of the deaths were accidental deaths.”

“What? How?”

Sherlock turned to Archie, hands clasped behind his back, and bent down to look him straight in the eyes.

“Think you can explain it, Archie?”

Archie’s eyes went wide, and then his lips turned up in a smile that lit up his whole face, showing his excitement.

“Really, Mr. Holmes?”

“Yes, I think you’ve earned that right.” Sherlock winked at him.

Archie took a deep breath, and then turned to face Lestrade.

“They were all killed by _Nerium_ poisoning.”

“What?” asked Lestrade, looking to Sherlock.

“ _Nerium oleander_ , commonly known simply as oleander. It’s an ornamental bush that produces flowers in the Apocynaceae family -”

“I know what oleander is, Sherlock. How do you know it was poison?”

“She has a rash caused by a dermatitis reaction to a toxin. Also, her hands are pale since the poison caused her heart to slow down before she died. Oleandrin, a toxin in oleanders, is one of the few poisons that would cause both reactions.”

“Okay, but how were they all poisoned? And how was it accidental? None of the victims own oleanders.”

Sherlock looked to Archie, who walked over to the window again.

“If you look in the neighbor’s yard there, you can see oleanders as well as a beehive.” Archie looked to Sherlock, radiating self-pride.

“Yes, it was Archie who noticed the beehive. He solved the case again!” Sherlock gave Archie one of his very rare smiles-- one Lestrade had only ever seen him give John-- before returning his attention to Lestrade.

“There’s a plate with toast crumbs and drops of honey on the table, and a just opened jar of homemade honey in the kitchen. Obviously, the neighbor canned her honey and gave it to her neighbors, unaware of the fact that her bees were making honey from her oleanders, and that oleander honey is just as poisonous as eating the leaves or stems.”

“So they were all killed by _honey_?”

Sherlock and Archie rolled their eyes at the same time. If Lestrade hadn’t have been so exasperated, he would have smiled at their twin actions.

“You know how much I hate repeating myself. Yes, _honey_. I’m quite certain that you will find a similar jar of honey at each of the other victims house, and that the honey will test positive for Oleandrin.”

“But how do you know it wasn’t murder? How do you know that the lady next door wasn’t just trying to kill all her neighbors?”

Surprisingly, it was Archie who answered. “Have you looked at her? She looks like my Gran, and my Gran is too old to commit any murders.”

Sherlock snorted, smirking at Lestrade. “Well, there you have it. Perfectly reasonable explanation to me. Now do you need us for anything else, or can your bumbling idiots settle the rest on their own?”

Lestrade sighed. “Yeah, fine. I think we can take it from here.”

“Well then, we’ll be on our way. Come along, Archie.”

The two started to leave, but right before they left the room, Archie turned back and ran up to Lestrade, giving him a quick hug.

“Thank you, Mr. Lestrade.”

Archie smiled up at him briefly, and then ran back to Sherlock, quietly slipping his small hand into Sherlock’s much larger one. Sherlock looked down at their joined hands, one corner of his lips quirking upward quickly, before they continued out the door.

“That was so cool, Mr. Holmes! When can we do that again?”

“Hopefully soon. And you can call me Sherlock, Archie.”

“Okay. Sherlock? I’m kind of hungry. Can we get some food?”

“Of course. How do you feel about Chinese?”

Lestrade followed them to the door of the house and watched them walk off, hand in hand, talking animatedly about god knows what. He stood there, hands in his pockets and a fond smile on his face, until Donovan walked up and looked at what he was watching.

“Do you think it’s a good idea to allow the freak to watch a kid, boss?”

“Before today, I might have said no. But I think those two are just what each of them needs right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some artistic liberties with the case. Oleander honey is poisonous, but usually causes someone to be sick enough to get medical attention before it actually kills someone. We'll just pretend it stopped the victims hearts before they got sick enough to seek medical attention.
> 
> I always appreciate reviews and comments!


	2. The Dumb Engineer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly hurried to her office. Once there, she stopped for a moment and considered the fact that Sherlock was currently in her morgue with a child. Before today, it was something she never could really picture, since she thought that Sherlock wouldn’t know how to interact with children. Seeing how he was Archie, though, made her realize how wrong she had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting this chapter. I really have no excuse other than laziness and procrastination. I do have this whole story outlined, so hopefully you won't have to wait so long until the next chapter.
> 
> Oodles of love and thanks go to my wife/beta [Amanda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose), who somehow found time to beta this even though she went to a wedding this weekend and is trying to finish the last chapter of her own fic ([Swan Song](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1177459/chapters/2400086), go read it if you haven't! It's fabulous.), and who I had to revive multiple times because she died of cuteness overload from this chapter.
> 
> Credit goes to [Engazed](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Engazed/pseuds/Engazed), whose incredible story [The Slash Man](http://archiveofourown.org/works/949101/chapters/1854825) inspired the cause of death for the case in this chapter.

Molly pulled off her gloves and goggles, then picked up her clipboard and glanced over the test results that had just been dropped off. Sighing, she checked her watch again.

Sherlock should have been here by now, she thought.

She had texted Sherlock as soon as the body had come in, thinking that he would find it interesting. She would never admit it to him, but she was worried. She had seen how sad he looked at the wedding when he thought no one was looking and had watched him leave early. There had been a despairing look in his eyes that night. She was hoping that this body would help distract him from whatever dark thoughts were floating around in that huge brain of his.

She was half way through the autopsy when she received his reply.

We’ll be there shortly. SH

Molly had mused over this text for the rest of the autopsy. Who was “we”? She was fairly certain that the Watsons hadn’t returned from holiday yet, so it wasn’t John. He wouldn’t have come just for an interesting body if he was already working a case, so it couldn’t be Lestrade. She certainly couldn’t imagine him bringing his brother or Mrs. Hudson to the morgue with him.

Suddenly, the doors of the morgue flew open, and Sherlock strode through, coat billowing dramatically behind him. His hair was ruffled from the wind outside and his sharp eyes took in everything around him. Molly couldn’t stop the giddy smile that broke out on her face, feeling her cheeks warm.

Stop it, she chided herself. You are over Sherlock Holmes. He does not think of you that way. He is so obviously in love with John. Besides, you’re engaged to Tom, for God’s sake!

Although, things weren’t going all that well with Tom, not since the wedding…

Sherlock stopped, and looked at Molly quizzically, his eyes quickly raking over her, laying her bare. Molly always felt like she had no secrets with Sherlock Holmes: he was always able to deduce everything about her. Well, almost everything.

“You’ve lost weight, Molly,” he said knowingly, thankfully keeping most of his thoughts to himself.

“Oh yes, well…” Molly stuttered, embarrassed. She absolutely did not want to talk about this, and certainly not with him. She cleared her throat and changed the subject.

“I was wondering when you’d--”

Molly stopped short, finally noticing the small boy behind Sherlock. His shoulders were rolled forward and he looked slightly unsure of himself. He also looked familiar, though Molly couldn’t place him.

“Oh, hello,” she said, brightly. “Who’s this, then?”

“Hmm?” Sherlock looked to see where Molly was looking. “Oh, this is Archie,” he said, waving his hand at the boy, seemingly dismissive, but with a warm look in his eyes. “Archie, this is Dr. Hooper. If we are very nice to her, she may let us have a look at this body that is hopefully as interesting as she claims.”

Archie smiled shyly up at Molly. “Hello, Dr. Hooper.”

Molly felt her heart melt at the sight of the adorable young boy.

“Hello, Archie. Pleased to meet you. How do you know Sherlock?”

“Sherlock is my babysitter and we solve crimes together,” Archie answered excitedly.

Molly raised an eyebrow at Sherlock, who rolled his eyes.

“I am not your babysitter, Archie. I am merely watching you while your mother goes on a date.”

“Which is exactly what a babysitter does.” Archie grinned widely up at Sherlock.

Sherlock sighed heavily. “Yes, fine, alright. I am his babysitter. Now I believe there is a body for us to look at.” Sherlock moved toward the table the body was on with Archie following closely behind.

“Wait, Sherlock.” Molly moved to stand between him and the body, effectively stopping their progress further into the morgue. She stood gaping at him for several seconds until he raised an eyebrow at her, inquisitive and impatient at the same time.

“You are a babysitter? How did that even happen?”

“Well, Archie and I formed a sort of… bond, I guess you could say, when we were preparing for the wedding.”

“Oh!” Molly interrupted, looking down at Archie. “You were the ring bearer! That’s why you look familiar.”

“Quite,” Sherlock agreed. “Then last week, his mother needed someone to watch him, and since the Watsons,” Sherlock grimaced slightly, “are still on their sex holiday--” Molly gave him a stern look then glanced down towards Archie. Sherlock cleared his throat. “I mean, honeymoon-- I agreed to watch Archie. He’s not boring and very helpful, so when his mother needed someone to watch him again, she called me and I agreed. So here we are.”

Sherlock’s explanation left her still feeling confused, but she thought she was beginning to see what was really going on. Sherlock was lonely and trying to replace John with this child. It was as heartbreaking as it was endearing. Still, the morgue wasn’t an appropriate place for children.

“Sherlock, do you think this is the best place for a child?” Molly asked, looking behind her at the naked body on the table. She had yet to completely finish the autopsy, and she’d left the chest cavity open in case Sherlock wanted to explore. She couldn’t think of anything more traumatizing than an open, naked, dead person-- for a child, at least. To her-- and Sherlock, for that matter-- there was nothing more exciting.

“I saw a dead body last week!” Archie proudly exclaimed.

Molly whipped her head back around and stared at Archie, who smiled mischievously up at Molly. She narrowed her eyes at Sherlock.

“What?”

“Ah yes, Archie came with me to a crime scene last week, where there happened to be a dead body. He was vital at finding pertinent evidence that essentially solved the case.”

Sherlock’s lips twitched up on one side and he patted Archie on the head. Archie beamed up at Sherlock in turn.

“Now, he’d like to assist me in solving another crime, if you’d let us look at the body. I felt this would also be an excellent opportunity to teach Archie some anatomy.”

Feeling completely flabbergasted, but overruled, Molly stepped aside and let the two pass. There was no reason to stop them if the boy had already seen a dead body. If he hadn’t suffered any trauma from a crime scene, then a clinical setting like a morgue was probably not likely to do any damage.

“This one is an accidental death. No crimes to solve here, but still a great opportunity to learn anatomy.”

Sherlock hummed skeptically, then asked, “So, what do we have?”

Molly read off the clipboard in her hands. “James Chambers. Age 29. It says here that is an engineer with some firm downtown. Found dead in his apartment by his girlfriend. Tox screens came back normal, though his blood alcohol level was fairly high.”

Sherlock walked around the body whilst she gave her report, eyes jumping over the body and cataloging any information he found there. He came back to stand next to Archie, who could just barely see over the autopsy table. Archie stood up on tip toe, grabbing onto Sherlock’s arm for balance as he tried to get a better look. Sherlock had looked like he was about to continue questioning Molly about the case, but when he felt the small hand on his arm, he looked down.

“Ah, yes…” He glanced around the morgue. “Molly, do you have anything that Archie can stand on?”

Molly thought about refusing, as she still thought it was a bad enough for a child to be in a morgue, let alone looking into the body cavity of a corpse. But then Archie turned and looked at her with such hopeful eyes, eyes that held the same curiosity and thirst for knowledge that she saw in Sherlock’s eyes, that she knew that this little boy was going to be able to wrap her around his little finger.

“I think I may have a step stool in my office. Hold on a minute while I go get it.” She walked towards the door, calling over her shoulder, “Don’t touch the body until I get back!”

Molly hurried to her office. Once there, she stopped for a moment and considered the fact that Sherlock was currently in her morgue with a child. Before today, it was something she never could really picture, since she thought that Sherlock wouldn’t know how to interact with children. Seeing how he was Archie, though, made her realize how wrong she had been.

She smiled to herself, finding her step stool and remembering belatedly that she had essentially left two children alone with a dead body. She hurried back to the morgue, knowing that Sherlock was not going to listen to her, and that he and Archie were probably already handling the body.

Sure enough, Sherlock and Archie had on blue nitrile gloves and were closely examining the dead man’s hands. Molly sighed audibly, and they both looked up at her with similar guilty expressions. Molly pressed her lips together to keep from laughing.

At least they are wearing gloves.

“There’s skin underneath his fingernails.” Sherlock pointed out, holding up the hand he was examining, as if that excused his behaviour.

“Yes, I noticed that as well. I’ve had samples sent up for DNA analysis, but that will take a few days. There’s a lack of any other type of defensive wounds, so it’s probably his own. Maybe he had an itch right before he died.”

Molly smiled at her joke, but Sherlock looked skeptical. Before he could say more, she brought the stool over to the table and Archie immediately stepped up on it. Once he could finally fully see the body, his eyes went round with wonder, diverting Sherlock’s attention.

“Woah. Cool.” He stared into the body cavity for a minute, curious eyes absorbing all he saw there, before he looked up at Sherlock.

“Do I look like this on the inside as well?” he asked with awe.

Molly hid her smile behind her hand, standing back and watching whilst Sherlock gave Archie an anatomy lesson, pointing out each organ and explaining what they did, then quizzing Archie to make sure he was retaining the knowledge. Archie was a quick study, keeping up with everything Sherlock was teaching him. At this rate, Archie would soon be giving Sherlock a run for his money.

She marvelled at the fact that Sherlock was taking the time to teach Archie instead of barrelling ahead with his investigation. Sherlock always expected everyone to be on the same level as him, and assumed everyone were idiots when they weren’t. She never imagined that Sherlock would ever care enough about anyone to actually take the time to teach them-- well except for John.

She bit her lip, really taking in Sherlock’s appearance for the first time since he had arrived. By the way his clothes were starting to hang on his frame, she wasn’t the only one who had lost weight in the last few weeks. His skin, always that perfect English alabaster, was even more pale than usual, with a sallow pallor to it. There were dark circles under his eyes that seemed to indicate that he was getting even less sleep than he normally did.

She hoped it was just heartbreak taking its toll on him and that he had not turned to drugs again to help him through his pain. She needed to know just how worried about him she needed to be, and so she decided to broach the subject of John’s wedding, even though it was the last thing she wanted to bring up.

“So,” she interjected, taking advantage of a lull in the lesson, “I read your blog post on John’s blog about the wedding. It was very funny.”

Sherlock looked up sharply from where he had been pointing out and naming where the stomach and small intestine connect. He gave her a tight smile, then looked back down at the body.

“I’m glad you liked it.”

Molly heard the underlying tension in his voice, the slight threat to end the conversation now, but she pressed on.

“Have you heard from John at all?”

Pain flashed across his face. So, not good, then.

“Uh, no. I expect he has been too busy.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Archie, who had sensed something in Molly’s voice, looked up at Sherlock. He inched closer to him and slid his smaller hand into Sherlock’s much larger one, giving it a small squeeze.

Sherlock looked down at his hand, stunned, and then smiled slightly. Clearing his throat, he released Archie’s hand and clapped his hands together, dispelling the sad aura that had permeated the morgue.

“So, I believe we were promised an interesting body. So far this one seems fairly ordinary. What were we called down here to see?”

Molly smiled at the display of affection between the two and at how easily Sherlock had slipped back into “we.” Maybe Archie was just what Sherlock needed to get through the pain of losing John.

Not wanting to ruin the surprise, she walked silently over to the body and opened the mouth. Both curly heads bent forward to peer into the cavity, and two sets of eyes widened at what they saw: where there should have been a tongue there was simply a mangled stub. Molly grinned widely, pleased with herself for managing to surprise Sherlock.

“Hmm. Fascinating.” Sherlock reached his fingers into the mouth, running them along the torn muscle. “Do you see how the edges are jagged, Archie? If the tongue had been cut out, the edges would be smooth, clean.”

“So does that mean his tongue was bit off?”

“Yes, exactly. Very good, Archie.” Sherlock gave him a quick smile, which caused Archie to beam with pride. He pulled back the lips in order to inspect the teeth. “Some of his teeth are chipped, especially on the bottom, indicating that he was struck forcefully underneath his chin.” He demonstrated the blow with the heel of his hand.

“It says here that he was found beside a coffee table,” Molly said. “Cause of death was a combination of blood loss and asphyxiation. That combined with where the body was found has the police ruling it as an accidental death.”

“Hmmm. An accident doesn’t account for the skin under his fingernails.”

Molly could tell that something about the body didn’t sit right with Sherlock. She watched as he straightened, eyes roaming all over the body again, trying to find something that he missed in his initial assessment, something that would help him make sense of the facts in front of him. Frowning, he looked to Molly.

“Do you have his clothes?”

“Oh, yes. They’re up in my lab. The report said that they were thoroughly examined by forensics before being brought here.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Yes, well, the Met’s forensics team are a bunch of idiots. I need to examine them myself. Why didn’t Lestrade call me to the crime scene? Important evidence might have been missed or contaminated by the morons that call themselves a forensics team.”

Molly looked down, smiling to herself. It was good to hear Sherlock going off on one of his rants. He sounded more like his old self.

After everyone had removed their gloves and washed their hands, Molly took Sherlock and Archie up to her lab, where the deceased's clothes were in an evidence bag. She handed it over to Sherlock, who donned new gloves, and laid the clothes out on her clean work table. He pulled out his magnifying glass, closely examining the clothing.

Molly pulled a stool over for Archie so that he could sit beside Sherlock as he worked. Archie started looking over the clothes as well, as if he too was looking for clues. Molly thought his effort was adorable, though she doubted that he would find anything that Sherlock had missed.

A few moments later however, Archie found the clue that Sherlock was unknowingly looking for. Molly watched, amazed, as Archie excitedly pulled on the sleeve of Sherlock’s coat, pointing out the long, red hair he had found on the front of the shirt.

Sherlock’s face broke out into an actual, genuine smile, one which she had only ever seen directed towards John.

“Fantastic, Archie!”

Sherlock and Archie smiled at each other, excitement lighting up their eyes at the idea of a case to solve, Molly felt a small amount of jealousy. She realized that Archie connected with Sherlock on a fundamental level in a way very few could, and even though she had tried her hardest after he had returned from the dead, she would never be on the receiving end of one of those smiles.

Just as quickly as the jealousy flared up, however, it dissipated, acceptance following in its path. She may never be that special person for Sherlock Holmes, but she was still important to him and she mattered. Finally, after years of yearning, that was enough for her.

A sense of peace washed through her as she watched Sherlock bag the hair for evidence. She was still smiling to herself when Greg Lestrade suddenly entered her lab, eyes only on her.

“There you are! I went looking for you in the morgue. Have you finished the autopsy on Chambers yet? I’m really hoping to wrap this one up.”

Molly had about a second to appreciate how warm Greg’s chocolate brown eyes were when he looked at her-- and felt a shiver of something run down her spine-- before Sherlock was rushing up to them.

“Grant! Why didn’t you call me in on this case? I needed to see the crime scene!”

“What, why?” Greg looked incredibly confused. “This looked like an accidental death.”

“Then why is there skin underneath the victim’s fingernails? And Archie found a long red hair on his clothes!”

“Archie is here?” Greg looked around and found Archie sitting at the work table. “Oh hey, Archie.” He walked over to Archie and ruffled his hair, earning him a glare much like Sherlock’s, which Greg chuckled at. “So, are you solving crimes again?”

“Yes, we are,” Sherlock huffed. “Or we would be if you had called us to the crime scene. Come on, we need to go down to the Yard so that I can look at the crime scene photos. I can only hope that your idiot forensics team didn’t completely ruin the evidence! Come along, Archie”

Sherlock turned and exited the lab, coat flowing dramatically behind him. Archie crawled down from his stool and made to follow Sherlock, but seemed to hesitate when he was passing Molly. He turned and looked at her, then suddenly threw his arms around her waist.

“Thank you, Dr. Hooper, for letting me see the dead body!” He looked up at Molly, gave her a huge grin, and then ran out of the lab after Sherlock before she could make any kind of reply.

Molly stood still, completely shocked for a few seconds, before she blinked up at Greg. He grinned, one eyebrow raised at her.

“Quite the crime solving duo, aren’t they?” Amusement laced his voice, and Molly couldn’t help but smile back.

“Quite. Archie said they solved a crime with you?”

Greg laughed. “Oh yes. I called Sherlock into that serial killer case that we were working on last week, the one where the bodies showed no cause of death. He showed up with Archie and solved the case in about 15 minutes. Archie actually pointed out the clue that helped Sherlock solve the whole thing. He’s a pretty bright kid. A right mini Sherlock.”

Molly hummed in agreement, but voiced her biggest concern. “He seems good for Sherlock, but do you think it’s healthy, bringing a child along to crime scenes and a morgue?”

Greg’s expression grew serious as he considered his answer for a bit.

“Maybe not for most children. But Archie is so much like Sherlock, and over the years I’ve gathered that Sherlock did not have a happy childhood. I think it’s probably good for Archie to have someone who listens to him and understands him.”

He smiled sadly, eyes filled with worry. “Plus, like you said, it’s good for Sherlock. I’ve been really worried about him ever since the wedding…”

Molly knew that he too had noticed how Sherlock’s appearance had changed in the last few weeks. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who was worried about Sherlock, wasn’t the only one watching and hoping that he didn’t fall back into old habits now that John was married. Molly nodded her head in silent agreement.

They stood in contemplative silence for a few seconds before Greg smiled at her.

“So anyway, how are things? I haven’t really gotten to see you much since the wedding.”

She smiled brightly at Greg, possibly too brightly considering he just asked her how she was, but she watched happily as his eyes melted at her smile. “Oh you know. Pretty much the same.”

“How’s uh… Tom?”

Molly’s smile faltered “Um… Things aren’t really that great with Tom right now.”

Greg’s smile got a little brighter and something like happiness flashed in his eyes, before he quickly schooled his features to look disappointed.

“Oh, sorry to hear that.”

If Molly hadn’t been watching him closely, she would have missed it, and his reaction warmed her all over. She gave him a shy smile, and he grinned again in response.

They stood staring at each other, smiling stupidly. Molly was working up the courage to ask Greg to get coffee with her, when Sherlock came crashing back into the lab, Archie following behind.

“Come on Graham, we need to…” He stopped abruptly, eyes quickly processing everything going on between the two of them.

Apparently, so was Archie. He tugged on the arm of Sherlock’s coat, asking in a stage whisper that both she and Greg could obviously hear, “Do they like each other?”

Sherlock did not bother with a stage whisper. “Yes, they are obviously attracted to each other, given how close they are standing to each other and the ridiculous grins on their faces.” He glared at the two of them. “You both know that this is problematic right now seeing as Molly is still engaged to be married to Tom.”

Sherlock turned his full focus on Molly, causing her to blush even more than she already was. “I’d say that you are in luck though, Gavin. Give it a week, maybe two, and the fiance won’t be an issue anymore. Now let’s go! The game is on!” He swirled and left the lab just as dramatically as before.

Molly felt the heat of the blood rushing to her face and chest, knowing she must now be bright red. She stared rather pointedly at her feet, wishing that the a hole would open up beneath her and swallow her up. The last time she felt this mortified was at the Christmas party at Baker Street all those years ago.

She was going to murder Sherlock Holmes the next time she saw him.

Greg cleared his throat. “Well, I guess I should be going. Crimes to solve and all.”

There was a tone in his voice that caused Molly to finally look up at him. He was bright red with embarrassment as well, but he also looked incredibly hopeful.

“Yes. You don’t want to keep Sherlock waiting. You know how he gets.” Her voice sounded squeaky and strained, even to herself. If it was at all possible, she blushed even further and looked back down at her shoes.

“So, uh… Would you like to have coffee in a week or two?”

Molly’s head snapped up, her eyes searching Greg’s. He had a huge smile on his face, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. Molly burst out laughing, the tension and awkwardness finally bleeding out of both of them.

“Yes, I’d love coffee. Probably in about a week. I’ll call you.”

Greg beamed at her, and then they heard a small giggle. Archie stood by the door, forgotten, hands clasped over his mouth as he tried to keep in his giggles. When he saw that they had finally noticed him, he burst out into peals of musical laughter. Greg rolled his eyes at Molly, then turned to leave, ushering Archie out the door.

She couldn’t stop smiling to herself the rest of the day, especially after Greg called to say that they had solved the case-- apparently it was the girlfriend who had killed the engineer--  and he also casually made sure they were still on for coffee. It was one of the best days she could remember in a while.

She was going to have to find a really interesting corpse for Sherlock and Archie as a thank you present.

 


	3. The Exciting Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Buttercup _can’t_ marry that horrible man! That doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure you are reading it right? This is a terrible story.”
> 
> “Do you want me to read you the story or not?” Archie asked, one eyebrow raised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so , so sorry that this took so long to update. This chapter was actually finished a month ago, but a combination of life and lots of travelling kept me from properly editing and posting. Hopefully I will get the next chapter posted quickly to make it up to you all.
> 
> Also, my gorgeous beta has started law school, and is therefore much to busy to look at my silly writings. This is unbetaed, so all mistakes and awkward phrasing are my own.

“No, no, no, no!”

Violet Holmes abandoned the book she had been reading in the sitting room at 221B and hurried to the bedroom at Sherlock’s outburst, only to find him exactly as she had left him: lying in his bed propped up by pillows, with Archie at his elbow reading one of his favourite books to Sherlock.

Well, attempting to read. Sherlock kept interrupting with opinions and deductions.

“Buttercup _can’t_ marry that horrible man! That doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure you are reading it right? This is a terrible story.”

“Do you want me to read you the story or not?” Archie asked, one eyebrow raised.

Sherlock pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. He winced, and quickly put his arms by his side, frustration written plainly in the tenseness of his body. Wanting to avoid an entirely different type of outburst, Violet walked over to the bed and ran her fingers through her son’s beautiful curls.

“Sherlock, dear, Archie is being very sweet to read to you. Why don’t you just let him keep reading, hmm?”

Sherlock pressed up into her hand for just a second, before pulling away in a huff. “Fine, Mummy. Archie, you may continue.”

Violet smiled, one corner of her mouth turning up in triumph, and winked at Archie. He smiled back at her, suppressing an amused giggle.

“I’ll make you both some tea, shall I?”

“Yes please, Mrs. Holmes,” Archie answered, followed by Sherlock’s hum of approval.

Archie began reading again as she walked out of the room, and had just reached the kitchen  when she heard Sherlock excitedly cry, “I was right! I knew she wouldn’t marry that idiot. Now let’s skip ahead to the pirate. I like him.”

Violet smiled as she busied herself in the kitchen making tea, happy to hear her boy sounding more like himself. She knew that being bedridden was driving Sherlock mad. Usually he was flying all over the place, energy pulsing through him. She hated seeing her active boy have to be so still.

She bad been ever so glad when Archie had shown up the day they had gotten Sherlock home from hospital. She had been clueless as to who this little child was with eyes that were so much older than they should be, but she had smiled and let him in when he said he wanted to see Sherlock. The mother had left after dropping him off, something about errands or such, and Archie had walked right into Sherlock’s room, sat down next to him in his bed, and told Sherlock without preamble that he was going to read to him.

“What kind of book is that?” Sherlock had asked, eyeing the book in the boy’s hands.

“Oh, it’s my favourite! It has adventures, fencing, kidnapping, pirates --”

“Pirates, hmm. Okay, I suppose you can read me this silly book.” Sherlock had settled back, pretending to be bored as he listened raptly to the story.

Violet knew the child was curious about what had happened to Sherlock-- how could he not be? Sherlock had been shot-- but he seemed to sense that Sherlock didn’t want to talk about it, and so had not asked any questions. She had decided instantly that she liked the boy, especially as his visits helped keep Sherlock’s darker moods at bay.

She set the tea tray, adding some chocolate biscuits that she knew were Sherlock’s favourite, and brought the tray into Sherlock’s room. She handed out tea and was placing the plate of biscuits in the middle of the bed when John walked abruptly into the room.

He stuttered to a stop when he saw Violet and Archie, eyes flicking between them before glancing briefly at Sherlock, then flitting to the floor.

“I… uh… I need to change your dressing,” he said, tersely, hands clenched at his sides.

Violet scrutinized John and Sherlock. She noticed how they were both looking anywhere but at each other, how Sherlock had looked both over the moon and apprehensive when John entered his room, and how the room suddenly felt heavy under the tension between the two of them.

“Archie, let’s go into the sitting room for a bit, dear. Give Sherlock some privacy.”

Archie laid his book down on the bed, pages down to save his spot, and allowed Violet to usher him out of the room.

She wasn’t quite sure why John Watson was back living in 221B. She had originally assumed that it was so that he could take care of Sherlock, but she was here for now, and Martha was downstairs, so John should have been able to just drop in to change Sherlock’s dressings and check in on him.

There was obviously more going on than Violet knew about. There was something different about John since Sherlock had been shot. He was quiet and unsocial, spending almost all of his time upstairs in his room, except for when he came downstairs to check on Sherlock or to make himself tea. The one time she had tried to ask John why he was here instead of back home with Mary, he had glared at her and gone back up to his room, and Sherlock had shook his head at her, eyes pleading not to ask questions. So she had kept her mouth shut, but all of her motherly instincts were telling her that something was very, very wrong.

She led Archie to the boys’ chairs, sitting in the leather monstrosity her son usually claimed whilst Archie perched on the edge of John’s chair. She noticed how tense the boy was, how he seemed to be straining to hear what was happening in the bedroom. He had obviously picked up on the wrongness of 221B as well, but she didn’t want this poor child to worry. She decided that he needed a distraction just as much as she did.

“So, Archie, what year are you in school?”

“Year 3,” he answered quietly.

“Ah, that’s a good year. What is your favourite subject?”

Archie perked up, eyes brightening. “Science! I love science. We get to do so many fun experiments.”

Violet smiled at the small boy. “You sound so much like my Sherlock. He was always running around, doing experiments all over the house and the garden. I found all kinds of odd things where I least expected them-- mould in cupboards and animal fur under the sink. You should get him to do some experiments with you once he is feeling better.” Her smile faltered a bit, but she smiled brightly when Archie looked at her sadly and resumed her questioning. “What other subjects do you like?”

“I like reading. I get to go on all kinds of adventures when I read,” he answered quietly, smiling shyly at Violet.

Her heart broke for this beautiful boy who was lonely enough that he escaped into novels. He reminded her so much of another little boy who had a lonely childhood, and she suddenly understood why her son had befriended this boy when he usually found everyone tedious.

“What kind of stories are your favourite,” she asked.

“Well, any kind of adventure story, but I really like pirate stories. Oh, and mysteries,” Archie answered, bouncing a little on the edge of his seat in his excitement.

“Sherlock wanted to be a pirate, once,” she confided in a whisper, chuckling softly as she remembered a boy not much younger than Archie, running around the garden with a pirate hat and sword, his trusty first mate Redbeard at his side.

“He did?” Archie’s eyes went wide before he dissolved into giggles. The sound echoed off the walls, beautiful and foreign in what had become a solemn flat. Archie recovered slightly and seemed to be about to ask more questions, when John walked into the sitting room. Archie’s laughter was stifled instantly.

John looked around the room awkwardly, not quite meeting either of their eyes.

“Um…,” he began awkwardly, then cleared his throat. “I’m done changing Sherlock’s dressing. You can go back into his room.” He then turned and walked up to his room.

As soon as Archie heard John’s footsteps on the stairs, he jumped off the chair and ran to Sherlock’s room. Violet followed, though at a more subdued pace. When she walked back into Sherlock’s room, she found Sherlock sitting in bed, staring sadly into space, lost in deep thought. Archie was standing at Sherlock’s bedside, looking at Sherlock with eyes that knew far more about the sadness on Sherlock’s face than a boy of his age should. She shrunk back to the door frame and watched as Archie gently reached out and and touched Sherlock’s wrist. Sherlock blinked and looked down, pulled out of his reverie, then looked back up at Archie and smiled invitingly at him.

“Now, I think we were at the pits of insanity. Isn’t that right?” Sherlock asked, beckoning to the book that still lay on the bed.

Archie smiled brightly, crawling back into the bed with Sherlock, but this time instead of just sitting beside Sherlock, Archie curled up on Sherlock’s good side and settled down to continue reading. Sherlock looked bemusedly down at the curly head tucked into his shoulder, then carefully placed his arm around him, pulling the small boy more comfortably to his side. The corners of his mouth turned up in a soft, melancholy smile before he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headboard and allowed the story to wash over him.

Violet fell completely in love with the boy at that moment. She had no idea who had shot her son. She had no idea what was going on with John Watson, or why her son suddenly seemed so heartbroken. What she did know was that somehow, this small boy seemed to make things slightly better for her son, and that she would be eternally grateful to him.

Violet tiptoed away so as not to disturb the two, going back to her own book in the sitting room. When she checked on them an hour later, she found them both asleep, still cuddled up next to each other, the book forgotten between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stole Mummy Holmes' name from [astudyinrose](http://archiveofourown.org/users/astudyinrose)'s gorgeous, heart breaking, wonderful, fantastic story [Swan Song](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1177459/chapters/2400086). If you haven't read it yet, you really, really should! (And yes, I am completely biased as I was the beta for that fic.)


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